At the Gala
by creating-not-finding
Summary: Dick and Barbara share a moment at one of Bruce's galas. DickBabs. SPOILER ALERT: Takes place after the events of "Before the Dawn".


AT THE GALA

It was late by the time Dick made it back to the mansion. Bruce's gala had already started; he could hear the guests from where they'd gathered in the foyer as he made his way up from the cave, shrugging on a tuxedo as he went. He slipped an arm through one of the sleeves and winced as one of his ribs give a sharp pang of protest. He'd have to remember to thank Clayface for that one. His right leg was giving him some issues, too, but he was actually pleased about that. If anyone noticed a limp he could use the old motorcycle accident excuse and he had a foolproof way to get out of dancing with anyone.

He'd used to love dancing at these things, but these days, Dick often found he just didn't have it in him to let loose and have a good time. He guessed the strain from all the lying and manipulation to his team was finally starting to take its toll on him. He was beginning to understand how Bruce felt.

He paused to hastily tuck in his shirt and button the jacket then slipped quietly through the door that opened through a bookshelf in Bruce's study. The guests were all crowded into the west wing, so he didn't have to worry about being caught, but he was still cautious as he slid the hidden door back into place. When you grew up with a secret identity, you learned not to take any chances. Satisfied that no one had heard him, Dick pulled the final touch, a bow tie, from his pocket (he'd "borrowed" it from Wally's closet the last time he'd been in Stanford since his favorite one had been destroyed along with their headquarters) and looped it clumsily through his collar. It took him about two tries to get it, which was just ridiculous. His hands were capable of dismantling a bomb in under ten seconds and yet somehow, they could never make a simple knot. At last he finished, and, hoping he looked at least somewhat presentable, took a steadying breath and headed towards the foyer.

A cacophony of voices and music and the clinking of glasses washed over him as he opened the great double doors. He paused for a moment, allowing himself a quick, critical scan of the dining room, before plastering a fake smile on my face and switching to 'schmooze mode'. Cries of "Richard!" and "Mr. Wayne, Jr.!" assailed his ears as he descended into the crowd. He flashed them all polite smiles but passed by as quickly as he could. A gnawing feeling of discomfort was growing in his stomach as the prospect of the night ahead fully dawned on him. He knew these things were necessary to him and Bruce, especially now that the man had been absent for so long. Traveling through space might be a viable excuse for Batman, but somehow Dick doubted that would cover it for Bruce Wayne. A "welcome-back-from-your-safari" extravaganza was really the only way to go, he thought to himself sardonically. They had a reputation to uphold, after all.

But the timing couldn't be worse. He didn't think he had it in him to keep smiling politely or engage in meaningless conversation when all he wanted to do was be alone. As he spotted a large group of wealthy people talking snidely amongst themselves, he started to wish he was back in Gotham's sewers.

Okay, not really. But almost.

At last, he found Bruce. Relief washed through him as he swam through the sea of fake faces towards the one that he actually trusts. Bruce had his mask on too tonight, and not the one he wore with a cape and cowl. They'd been reunited already, but the sight of him was comforting anyway. Dick hadn't realized how much he still needed the man until he'd disappeared for six months. It was good to have him back.

Dick could see he was standing among a large group of people, smiling amicably and gesturing towards someone on his right. He couldn't quite make out the person's face as he approached, but as he drew near a portly man in front of him moved aside and suddenly she came screeching into view.

It was Barbara. And she looked amazing. So amazing he was pretty sure he felt his jaw drop. She was wearing a floor length satin gown with a slit up to her thigh that hugged her body in all the right places. Her hair looked like flowing red silk that shimmered in perfect waves down her back, brushing against the bare, creamy skin on her neck and shoulders. Her bright blue eyes stood out like they were cut from diamonds, and they were crinkled with mirth as she laughed at something someone said. The ridiculous thought flashed through him that it should have been _him_ who had made her laugh like that.

Bruce was laughing, too, that mirthless noise he somehow managed to convince people was actually real. He noticed Dick and gestured widely. "Dick!" he booms, "Just who I wanted to see!"

His adopted father threw an arm around him as he pulled him into the group, beaming widely. Dick knew it was all an act, but still, he couldn't deny that there was a small part of him who wished the _real _Bruce would act that way sometimes. "I was just introducing my friends to Barbara, here," he was saying, and as soon as he said her name Dick's eyes were drawn to her again. "But of course, the two of you have already met."

Next to them, Barbara gave him a tiny wink that only he caught. To the group she addressed him with a smile and a simple, "Long time no see, Mr. Grayson."

Dick came up with some charming reply and the others laughed, but then he allowed himself to fall silent. They talked for a few more minutes about some mindless piece of gossip, and every once and a while, he snuck a glance in Barbara's direction. She smiled at all the right times, laughed when a joke was actually funny, and was quick to interject with something equally witty of her own. He didn't need his years of training on how to read body language to see that the crowd adored her. Barbara was a natural. She even had him partly fooled; he could almost believe that she was actually enjoying herself.

Eventually—a little longer than he usually lasted—Bruce made up some excuse to disappear. The surprising part was that he took the crowd with him. "Come on," he said jovially, ever the charming host, "Let's leave these two alone." Then he winked at Dick.

Bruce _winked_.

And then suddenly he and Barbara were alone, he trying hard not to turn a brilliant shade of red. The same shade as her dress... which he had definitely been staring at for too long.

Barbara seemed to notice. "Do you like it?" she asked, and did a girly sort of half-twirl that she remarkably managed to make sarcastic. She gave a little laugh.

Dick nodded dumbly in response. "You look..." he began, then shifted tactics awkwardly. "Um, I mean...it's a great dress. Really."

She looked absolutely gorgeous.

Barbara gave him a giddy smile, evidently still thinking their conversation was a joke. "Why, thank you."

All at once she sobered. Her smile faded slightly, and grew more inhibited. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I actually wore it on purpose tonight, in case I ran into you. I thought you'd appreciate the color."

Red was his favorite. He'd told her that in high school, back when he still wore the color on nights and weekends as part of his costume. Barbara remembered. Of course she did.

He watched her smile turned up slightly in one corner of her mouth as she added, blushingly, "Consider it a sign of a truce."

A truce. Instantly, he recalled their last meeting, under a situation considerably different than their current one. It had been a few weeks since their mission to the Light's headquarters. That night, Barbara had confronted him at the cave. Apparently, she and Tim had been better detectives than he'd given them credit for—they'd uncovered his entire plan; Artemis, Kaldur, headquarters…the whole thing. Needless to say, she hadn't been pleased. Things had been tense since then, on missions with the team and even when they ran into each other on patrol in Gotham.

He was thinking about their latest encounter on one of Gotham's rooftops, remembering some of his own heated comments with an uncomfortable pang. The whole thing had started because of him; because he hadn't trusted the person he should have trusted most. And she thought that she was the one who needed to call a truce?

He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but then his thoughts alighted on the fact that she had said she'd worn the dress purposely for him. And he decided getting Barbara to call a truce was something he should do more often.

"How kind of you," he replied, allowing himself just a small smile even though he suddenly felt like grinning. Barbara rewarded him with another smile of her own, a dazzling one that almost rendered Dick speechless for a second time.

"Well it is rather gracious, considering," she told him, just a hint of admonishment in her voice to suggest she hadn't quite let him off the hook yet. Then she softened. "I guess I just couldn't stand fighting with you anymore."

It was such a surprising thing for Barbara to say that he was pretty sure his brain stopped working for a second. Because the next words out of his mouth made no sense at all.

"Do you want to dance?"

Now it was Barbara's turn to look surprised. Dick watched as her bright blue eyes widened in shock and then slowly narrowed, awaiting her response with morbid apprehension. She fixed him with one of her scrutinizing gazes. "Are you sure you're up to it with that leg?"

He frowned at her, a little put out. "I thought I covered it up pretty well."

"You did," she replied easily, "but I have an unfair advantage. Namely four years of going to school with one of the most secretive guys in Gotham. I know all your tricks, Mr. Grayson."

She fixed him with a wry smile as she spoke and he suddenly understood the phrase 'beautiful but deadly'.

"Well, I don't think a little dancing will kill me," he pressed her, not sure why he did. He hadn't thought he was in the mood for dancing. But something about being able to talk this way with Barbara again—and okay, something about seeing her in that skin tight dress—made him suddenly want to. He realized suddenly that even though Barbara hadn't disappeared into space like Bruce, he'd been missing her just as much.

"That's because you've never tried dancing with me," she quipped, always ready with a comeback. It was in her usual self-deprecating humor that he found both endearing and utterly baffling at the same time. He'd seen Barbara's abilities at full capacity, and truly, she had nothing to act self-conscious about. She was truly amazing to watch. For someone who had got into the line of work later than the rest of them, Barbara had taken to it remarkably well. Flawless execution. Effortless precision. And then there was the added perk of her having a near genius level intellect. For someone who could brag about her achievements in at least seven different areas, it seemed odd to hear her make jokes so often at her own expense.

She did it when she was nervous, Dick had come to realize, or in the brief occasions when she felt unsure of herself. It happened less and less these days, but it reminded him that for all her newfound confidence, there were still ways in which Barbara was the same reticent wallflower he had first befriended all those years ago.

So he reached out and took her hand, pulling her towards him gently. "I think I can handle it," he said.

For a tiny moment, he felt her hesitate. He watched her intently, trying to read her thoughts. Normally it was easy for him, but there was something more than uncertainty behind those beautiful blues. Dick could feel it in the air between them, growing more intense with every passing second, like a building surge of electricity—but he couldn't quite name the feeling.

Her hands were soft and small as they at last slipped into his and they felt so delicate he almost forgot they were capable of knocking out a man twice her size. He moved his hand to her waist and she set hers tentatively on his shoulder. He expected to hold her at arms length, but to his surprise, it was Barbara who moved closer. Her slender arm wrapped around his shoulder and she slowly tilted her head to look up at him, smiling again with those beautiful eyes. As she leaned her head against him, he caught a whiff of the scent of her hair, a delicious taste of vanilla. The closeness seemed natural, as if there was simply no other way for them to be—like they'd been meant to be that way all along.

They swayed a little, doing a few steps but not really caring about keeping time with the music. They'd found their own little spot of dance floor, away from the rest of the crowd, but it already felt as if there was no one else in the room. Barbara hadn't stopped smiling, and so of course, neither could Dick. "Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Gordon?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Grayson," she answered, and he was rewarded by her soft peal of laughter. "And your leg seems to be doing just fine."

"Hardly feel it," he told her with a wink. It was true. As he gazed into the clear crystal blue of her eyes, his leg was the farthest thing from his mind.


End file.
